


gotta do my part

by caramelchameleon



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, a nice day on the beach, lifeguard walani, near-drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelchameleon/pseuds/caramelchameleon
Summary: everyone knows walani likes to relax on the beach and never do any work





	

**Author's Note:**

> feat. a walani headcanon discussed on tumblr. cripes i wrote this awhile ago and just never put it up.  
> if i screwed up any surfer slang/ocean facts/first aid i apologize, i've never surfed a board in my life

It’s a genuinely nice day. Those don’t come around all that often, here, and Walani is determined to savor it.

Willow’s got the right idea - she’s stretched herself out full-length on the beach, head pillowed on her folded-up red sweater, basking contentedly in the direct heat of the sun. In the time they’ve been together Walani’s never seen her burn, from the sun or otherwise. Webber’s down at the shoreline beneath an oversized straw hat, damp white sand clinging to their scruffy black fur while he industriously piles up a heap to build a sandcastle. Earlier, Wendy had taken a bamboo raft out a bit deeper to halfheartedly pick seaweed, but as the sun climbed higher she’d elected to dip her feet in the water, then slide off the raft entirely to swim. Warly is wading up to his waist, setting up bamboo poles in the thickest beds of mussels. Everyone else is off doing their own thing elsewhere - their loss, Walani figures. This is real nice.

Her board is on the sand beside her, but she doesn’t have any plans to head out. She’s fine just hanging out under a palm-frond umbrella and watching the waves roll by. Birds are calling somewhere behind her, and Webber is mumbling and clicking softly among themselves as they sort through a small collection of seashells, lining them up neatly on the sand to choose from. Warly straightens up from the stick he just planted and wipes a damp hand across his brow, looking back toward the beach.

“Walani!” he calls over. “Could you bring over more sticks, my friend?” Walani supresses a groan, heaves herself reluctantly to her feet and tucks her trusty board under one arm. The chest he wants is all the way over by the edge of the trees, and she drags her feet the whole time. Kicks it open, pulls out the junk Warly’s asking for.

He sighs a little under his breath as Walani paddles up to him. Okay, so she took her time, but she’d done what he asked, hadn’t she? Warly’s a nice enough guy, but he wants everyone to move at his pace, sometimes. Not her fault Walani’s built to a slower tempo.

“If you are not busy,” he says, voice carefully neutral, “I would appreciate your help.”

“I am busy.” Absentmindedly her gaze drifts away, scans the horizon. Never know what could be behind the next wave.

“Aha. And what is it you are busy with?”

Walani shrugs. “Chilling. Relaxing. Hanging loose. This ocean’s a crazy place to be, my guy, and it only gets worse when we don’t unwind. Gotta do my part.”

“Well, perhaps when you have finished,” and, yep, there’s definitely an edge of sarcasm underneath that. He keeps talking, but Walani tunes him out, focuses on Wendy’s pale face, the only part of her visible above the water. She’s quiet, head tilted back and staring blankly up at the sky.

“Wendy!” Walani bellows, and she doesn’t wait to see if there’s an answer, just sprints for the deeper water immediately. Behind her Warly angrily sputters something in French, and she hears agitated hissing from the shore that must be Webber. Walani pushes off the bottom and starts swimming, makes a beeline for Wendy. That girl is unnaturally quiet at the best of times, of course. She’s self-possessed and melancholy and given to staring off into space. Of course. But she’s not answering, or so much as looking annoyed at all the fuss.

Her mouth goes under right as Walani reaches her, but she gets an arm under the poor girl’s shoulders and hauls her back up - it’s not as hard as it should be, Wendy is a frail thing, all skin and bones. “Gotcha,” Walani soothes, talking to talk, trying to keep everyone involved calm. “Hey, let’s head back to shore, yeah?” Small, pale hands find the folds of Walani’s clothes and cling tight. “Great. Okay, kick your legs with me. Keep your head up, little buddy, perfect.”

And then Warly’s there, pushing Walani’s board before him like a lifeline, and between them they get Wendy halfway onto it, head and shoulders supported by the solid wood. From there it’s easy enough, straight back to the beach where Willow and Webber are watching anxiously, neither one terribly eager to dive into the water at the best of times.

Walani breaks off from chattering encouragement at Wendy long enough to call over, “Yo, dudes! One of you get her a towel or something!” Webber scuttles off immediately; satisfied, Walani brings the board in the last few feet, drags Wendy up the beach to dry sand and rolls her up on her side to heave and choke out the last of the water she’d swallowed. She’s crying, Walani realizes, in quiet, gasping sobs.

“Ugh. You’re soaked,” Willow observes, disgust on her face, but she’s already bringing out logs and kindling for a fire. It’ll be wicked nasty hot with the sun already beating down on them all, but at least it’ll dry everyone off faster. Webber returns with an armful of rough bamboo-fiber sailcloth and helps drape the larger piece over Wendy, then wraps her in a six-limbed hug.

Walani gives her hair a quick, perfunctory rubdown to get the worst of the water off and offers the other piece of cloth to Warly, who’s looking at her with frank respect.

“I did not know you were a lifeguard,” he says.

She shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of jobs.” Most of them not for very long, she’ll be the first to admit. But it’s not like she’s totally shiftless and irresponsible. Just some of the time.

“Well. Consider me very impressed,” he says, earnestly. “I would like to apologize for losing my temper -”

“Already forgiven, buddy.” Walani doesn’t want to go into it. Thankfully Warly takes the hint, looks instead toward Wendy sitting up beside the fire, leaning against Webber’s side.

“Is there anything else she will need?”

“Should be okay, once she dries off.” Wendy’s still breathing and that’s the important part - besides, people bounce back from injuries quicker than should be possible, in this place. Because she knows Warly, and because he’ll probably fret himself to pieces if he’s given nothing to do, she adds, “She had to barf up a bunch of seawater, so she’ll probably be hungry in a bit.”

Warly’s face lights up and he nods, trotting off to set up his cooking pot and grab whatever ingredients he’s after. Walani retrieves her palm-frond parasol and settles down beside Wendy with a sigh.

Willow is in the middle of saying something, face twisted into a scowl. “..count me out. I don’t know how you stand all that water in the first place.”

“It was an enlightening experience,” Wendy replies, voice soft and woebegone as ever, maybe a little harsh. “Now I know, perhaps, what Ophelia felt.”

“You scared us! Don’t go out that far again.” The pair of Webber’s creepy spiderlegs closest to Wendy are combing through her bedraggled, wet hair. Walani has to admit, Webber is a sweet kid, but it’s possible she’d be less than entirely chill if he tried that with her. Spiders… no thank you. It doesn’t seem like it bothers Wendy. “But Walani was super cool! You’re a great swimmer, Walani!”

“Thanks, spiderbuddy,” she replies, flashing Webber a grin. Wendy stares into the fire for a moment longer, then rummages in her pockets, pulls out something red and dripping wet. She sets it gently beside the fire, not too close, and it unfolds into a waterlogged flower, which quivers and then lifts gently off the ground.

“Oh, Abigail’s almost here!” Webber chirps, fangy mouth unfolding into a grin. “That’s something to look forward to, right? We’ll catch you a bird!”

Wendy nods, looking just a smidge more cheerful. Good. Walani tries not to think about what the kids plan on using that bird for, just lays back and stretches out on the sand, eyes closed. Warly’s started his dish, she can smell fish cooking somewhere nearby. If she’s lucky she’ll be able to mooch some leftovers, when it’s done… after a well-deserved nap.


End file.
